Love
by bookworm03
Summary: Fluff and nothing else. Post season 2 and fueled by a combination of all my roommates being gone for the weekend and me being in a sappy mood. New additions: Part One - Tony, Part Two - Michelle, Part Three - OC: Rick, Part Four - OC: Alex
1. Whole

**A/N****: **_Fluff I wrote in about two hours (with editing, haha) that I couldn't even tell you what inspired. Apparently I'm a sap today or something…What can I say, I had time to kill… It's just some fun. Hope everyone enjoys it._

Love. 

_Part One - Whole_

In his thirty-five years of existence Tony Almeida had been in love three times.

The first had been in his senior year of high school. It'd been his first serious relationship (which he realized when he refused to brag to his friends about whether or not they'd made it past second base) and she'd had light brown hair and big hazel eyes. It was the first time he'd really appreciated a female for what she had above the neck. He liked the delicateness of her features; her tiny nose and soft cheeks. She was pretty. Laurel was the type of person who made people say things like "who needs sugar when I've got you?". She was the first person he had sex with (when his parents visited friends for the day. For the rest of his life he'd vividly remember _Hotel California _on the radio in the background as he pulled off her last piece of clothing and bit his lip in concentration, urging his body not to betray him.), and the first person he could honestly admit made his heart pound. She was adorable, his mother had loved her, and there were prom pictures in an album somewhere of him in a tux and her in a slinky, floor-length, chartreuse dress standing on his parent's front lawn with their arms wrapped around each other a little awkwardly. It was your standard first romance that reached its natural end when they outgrew each other and went away to separate colleges. He'd felt sad for a few months, and the rest of college had been one or two pseudo-relationships and a couple of drunken one night stands to boot. Then came the Marines (which left little time for romance) and grad school with a couple of flings but nothing that lasted long. Nothing that made his heart pound…

* * *

The next time was Kirsten, a gorgeous redhead with peaches and cream skin and a petite figure. Unlike sweet Laurel, his relationship with Kirsten had been passionate. He remembered nights of being unable to keep their hands off each other – of literally _aching _for each other – and the idea of an adult relationship started to take shape. They could spend whole nights together, went out with their friends as a 'couple', and had to make sure they could visit both sets of parents _together _over the holidays. They weren't young, uncertain virgins trying to figure out who they were or what they wanted. They both knew what they wanted and for the first six months that was each other and only each other. Sex started to take on a different meaning too. He would wake up some mornings to her sliding his boxers over his hips and sealing her mouth around him… or she would look just too damn good to pass up and he'd practically assault her on her kitchen table or floor or whatever was in the vicinity and gave him the most leverage possible. Kirsten was the first time he'd felt the urge to seduce someone in a public place and he'd been young enough to try it (successfully) more than once. He loved her for making him feel like more of a man than anyone had before – for making him feel strong and virile – and for making him feel loved in a way he didn't know was possible. He loved her for making him feel exceptional, because unlike Laurel it wasn't a first love type of thing when you didn't know any better (and that was what made it special); Kirsten loved him because he was him and _that_ was validating.

Things started to fall apart right around his thirtieth birthday (three years into the relationship). She wanted to take their relationship to the next level (ie: move in) and he got a new job with DOD that she didn't like. She thought it was dangerous and time consuming and didn't know why he couldn't stick with programming for private companies and be happy with normal hours and a full life together. She didn't get his drive; his passion for something other than her. And as much as he still loved her, he never fathomed being able to give up a part of who he was for her. He'd spent too long and too hard working to get where he was in his career, and he knew their relationship was dead when he realized that if Kirsten couldn't get on board than she was expendable.

She cried a lot when he ended it. She cried on the couch of her apartment while he apologized again and again for something no one should ever have to apologize for. He couldn't change who he was; he'd been that for a lot longer than he'd been with her, even if it'd taken some time to grow into his own skin. She emptied two boxes of tissues and kissed him about a thousand times as they discussed everything to exhaustion through all hours of the night. In the morning she wiped her tear-stained cheeks before pulling his mouth against hers and kissing him deeply. They made love frantically on the floor of her apartment one final time and when it was over he carried her to the bed, dressed, brushed his lips against hers softly and left without another word. They didn't speak after that, much to his relief. She'd understood it in the end.

* * *

And then there was Michelle Dessler.

He knew it was different almost immediately. Within the first two weeks of dating he realized it was obviously unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He thought maybe it was different because things had started differently, intense in a way he didn't know people actually felt… until they sunk into a routine that was anything but intense and left him a complete mess every second she wasn't with him. He ached for her on every level; when they were in the same room together and he couldn't touch her it felt like the worse kind of torture; when she fell asleep on him in the middle of a movie his entire body burned to carry her to bed, wake her up with kisses and make love to her until morning. Every second with her was bliss and every second without her was agony.

He realized why it was different. Before, whenever he'd been in love he was just that: Tony Almeida in love. He became a little more a sap and a little less cynical; happier and more content with life. With Michelle he just felt like Tony Almeida – as if he'd only been a part of what who he was supposed to be before her and this was who he really was. He didn't just feel in love, he felt _whole. _

It took only three weeks for him to actually admit it to himself. They'd finally gone out for dinner and a movie (their first attempt had involved him making dinner and putting on a movie from his collection. The dim lights made them bold and they were stripping each other of clothes before the end credits rolled.). As they strolled down the street towards the theatre she tugged at his hand, pulling him up on the curb beside her. A soft smile formed on her features as she slid her fingers between his and tugged him a little closer.

And then, standing in line for their movie, she'd stepped up behind him and curled her hands around his waist, her heels giving her enough height to rest her chin on his shoulder. He twisted his head to see her face, finding himself unable to care less at the looks they received; his desire to be close to her outweighed his desire to not draw attention to himself a hundred-fold.

"You want popcorn or somethin'?" he asked, his stomach clenching as her arm moved up across his chest and her body pressed further into his.

She smiled and shook her head. "No, I'm good. I'm still full from dinner."

He made a face and she sighed dramatically.

"Do _you _want popcorn, Tony?"

He grinned and turned around to face her, slipping his arms around her waist and drawing her close as he leaned back against the ledge behind him.

"Nah…" he assured her, a smirk on his lips as he inched her closer to him. A grin spread across her lips and she wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed her lips against his.

"You sure?" she raised her eyebrows and he chuckled. He was still a little overwhelmed with the idea of how close they were after only a few weeks, but it made him happy so he didn't question it.

"Uh huh." He drawled slowly, nuzzling his face against her neck. "I'd rather have dessert after the movie." His hand moved slightly lower on her waist.

"Tony!" she warned playfully, pushing him away and casting a wary glance at the people surrounding them. He tightened his grip on her, holding his mouth plainly in front of hers, refusing to loosen his hold until he got a kiss. She rolled her eyes, placing a hand on each of his cheeks and kissing him warmly.

"Behave." She warned him. He snorted. Like that was gonna happen…

And for some strange reason it was in that moment, standing in front of their theatre, that it occurred to him that he loved her. He would've given an arm and a leg to make her grin like she was in that moment, and after only a few weeks he was having a hard time remembering life before her. He'd never felt more complete than he did in that moment with her wrapped up in his arms.

"Will you make it up to me later if I do?" he mumbled against her ear. She shivered and nodded against him. He grinned and released her slightly. He was content just to watch her anyway.

In the end it fit. He realized he'd fallen in love with her over dinner and a movie.

* * *

He waited until they'd been together just under two months before he finally told her. Sitting on the couch one night he waited until she brushed past him on the way back from loading the dishwasher (she'd insisted) when he reached out an arm and pulled her into his lap. She shrieked and laughed and curled her arms around his neck right as he kissed her deeply. She beamed when he pulled away, his fingers still in her hair.

"You're gorgeous." He declared. Her eyes clouded with affection and the color rose in her cheeks.

"I didn't even get to clean up after work…" she moved to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and his hand replaced hers, completing the task for her. He took her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her palm.

"You…" he moved his lips to the crook of her neck. "Are gorgeous…" he nipped at her earlobe.

"And sexy…" her cheeks grew warm against him, but her eyes fluttered shut as she allowed herself to be consumed by the warmth of his body and of his words.

"And uh…" he pulled back, cupping her face in his hands and brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. "And I uh…"

Her brow furrowed and she studied him as he searched for the words on the tip of his tongue.

"And I love you, Michelle."

Her face broke into a wide smile as he bit his lip uncertainly. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"I love you too."

And if possible, the way she said it made him love her even more. She didn't even look taken aback by his words. She just looked happy.

The corners of his lips twitched and his eyes returned to hers. "Really?"

She nodded slowly, intentionally bumping their noses together as her lips met his briefly. He kissed her back harder, his arms encircling her body as he tilted her back against the couch.

"Really?" his teeth tugged at her bottom lip and his tongue circled hers briefly. She nodded, kissing him again.

"How much?" his tone was teasing but his eyes were serious.

She kissed him hard in response.

"_So_ much, Tony." There was a slight catch in her voice when she spoke and Tony felt an ache like one he'd never experienced before. He used his body to press her further into the couch cushions and sealed his lips around hers again.

_Now _he felt whole.


	2. Butterflies

_**A/N: **__So, all your wonderful reviews prompted this. Again, it's just a quickie thing I threw down over a couple of hours but decided we could all use a little more fluff in our lives. :D I'm not sure how well it flows to be honest as I am severely deprived at this moment in time…hopefully it's readable!_

_I should be posting the next part of Disenchanted tomorrow (Friday at the latest) for those of you who are interested. Enjoy! _

_Part Two – Butterflies _

Michelle Dessler had been in love twice in her twenty-nine years of existence.

In high school she'd been the consummate good girl. She finished her work on time, did well in all her classes and knew the answer to most every question the teachers ever asked of her. She didn't come across as a know-it-all (most of the time), but she didn't come across as the type of person you dated either. She had this nasty habit of falling for people she knew she couldn't have (something she would identify as some sort of defense mechanism after first year psychology). For example, when she was sixteen she fell hard for one of her friends…one of her friends who also happened to have a girlfriend. You couldn't get more off-limits than that. Her stomach would fill with butterflies at the start of 4th period because she knew he would pass by her locker because he had algebra down the hall. Her best friend Alicia would squeal when she saw him and make herself scarce while Michelle fluffed her hair and stared into her locker, pretending to be absorbed in the artwork of her biology textbook. Normally he'd interrupt her with some sort of smart-ass comment (which she appreciated), but on a few occasions he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder and whispered a quiet "hi" against her ear. She'd hear Alicia squeal an _awwwww_ from her position hidden around the corner, and blushed furiously, relishing in the feeling of him against her like that. It was the first time in her life it occurred to Michelle that it might possibly be okay to stay wrapped up in someone's arms forever, even if it wasn't the type of thing smart, independent women considered. She allowed herself to entertain the idea because somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she would only be sixteen and this hopelessly naïve about love and life once and this was the only time in her life she would be able to feel so much from so little. She would only feel these kinds of butterflies once.

But she hadn't loved him, because how can you love something you aren't willing to give yourself to? A person could only take out of you as much as you were willing to put in, and Michelle protected herself. The less she put into something the less it would take out of her and she protected herself by falling for people who were off limits.

* * *

College passed without much interest in men. There was just no _time_. Between spending hours upon hours in the computer lab doing programming and time with friends she never seemed to meet anyone.

And then, in the second semester of her 4th year, in an algebra lab, she ended up lab partners with the guy sitting beside her. He was definitely cute with sandy hair and hazel eyes that looked different under the light of the sun than they did in class. He smiled widely with straight, white teeth and a dimple in his right cheek. He was intelligent and attractive and a little preppy without being arrogant.

She was convinced they were 'just friends' and once again she'd fallen into the trap she had so many times before. Guys never seemed to see her as more than a friend and she wondered why that was. She didn't know what kind of vibe she was sending out, but apparently it wasn't the right one. It wasn't that she desperately wanted a boyfriend (but she did feel like the oldest virgin left in the world and refused to have a random fling just so she could say she had sex). She just felt like a child by comparison to everyone else and she wanted to at least be able to say she'd actually _had _a relationship in her twenty-one years. The other problem was she never seemed to actually like anyone enough to pursue anything.

But Steve changed all of that. She found herself getting excited at the prospect of going to lab and spending a little more time on her hair those mornings to make sure it wasn't a complete mess before she saw him. She was shocked to find he actually seemed interested. He started sitting beside her during lecture and made her laugh constantly. They even had coffee when they had time off together between classes. Finally, he invited her to a party his roommates were throwing and they spent most of the night in each other's company, finally ending up outside on the front lawn bundled up in jackets.

"Michelle, listen I uh…." He studied her uncertainly and she felt her heart starting to pound in her chest as she realized how close they were.

"I want to kiss you."

A shiver ran through her whole body.

"Then why don't you?" she tried to sound coy. She knew she'd failed miserably.

His mouth quirked into a grin.

"I don't know."

She grinned back, practically ready to jump out of her skin now.

"That doesn't seem like a very good reason."

"You're right." He was still grinning when he leaned over and pressed his lips softly against hers. She felt this _pull_ towards him as soon as their lips touched and slid closer, moving her hands to his shoulders when he curled an arm around her waist.

* * *

She waited two months before having sex with him. He was perfectly sweet throughout the whole thing and did his best to make it special and memorable – and it was. It was exactly the kind of 'first time' anyone could possibly want. They planned out the whole thing for when he knew he was going to have the house to himself; Michelle put on underwear that matched and didn't eat for five days out of sheer nervousness. They sat on the bed together, talking quietly for a few minutes, and eventually ended up lying on their sides facing each other. Her whole body fluttered with the best kind of nerves and they spent an eternity kissing and caressing before the main event.

It was as good as could be expected for a first time, and the more they did it the better it got. Steve treated her like a queen and was sweet and loving and obviously wanted to make her happy. She fell for him hard when she finally did, (something she denied for months until Alicia finally called her out on it), and as the years passed they only got closer. Her mother was thrilled and by the time her twenty-fourth birthday rolled around kept insisting that "she had a feeling" he would propose soon.

He did. But not the way Michelle wanted him to. He got a job offer in Florida and asked her to come with him…and marry him. When she asked _what about my job _he told her she could find something else.

The problem was, Michelle was still responsible and grounded and wanted to be a strong, independent woman and that answer didn't work for her. What if she didn't find something she liked as much as her job now? What if she didn't find anything at all? How could she go somewhere consciously knowing there was nothing waiting for her on the other end? Mature, responsible, independent women didn't do that. She wasn't letting Steve take care of her.

Telling him she couldn't go ended the relationship. There was no talk of trying to keep things going long-distance, because having a rejected marriage proposal hanging overhead changes everything. It occurred to Michelle that she'd never really seen herself ending up with Steve permanently. She'd loved him, but he wasn't it. He wasn't what she wanted for herself.

Her mother raked her over the coals for her decision, telling her there would be other jobs and other career opportunities but there might not be another Steve. Steve was a good guy and Michelle knew her mom just wanted what was best for her. She couldn't understand that what was best for Michelle didn't necessarily involve a guy. She still resented her mom for the arguments she started over it.

And then her mom died. Six months after Steve moved away her mom got cancer and five months after that she died. Her condition had deteriorated at a ridiculously fast pace, and then she seemed to linger on the brink of life and death for way too long. When it happened Michelle's dad fell to pieces and her brother fell off the face of the Earth for the better part of a week, but Michelle had almost been relieved. It had been so painful to watch and wait and know what was inevitably coming and when it finally happened Michelle took comfort in the fact that her mom wasn't in pain anymore. So…she sucked up anything she might've felt and managed the funeral arrangements, never once allowing herself to succumb to her emotions. There would be time for that later.

At the reception she was shocked to see Steve had shown up. Alicia had warily left them alone and he'd hugged her tightly, his own voice cracking as he muttered "I'm so sorry, Michelle". Despite Alicia's warnings, she went to his hotel after everyone else had left to talk. It took less than fifteen minutes for Michelle to decide what she wanted... She pulled him against her, pushed her tongue into his mouth and swung a leg around his hips as her fingers hurriedly undid the buttons on his shirt. She came twice hard in his arms and collapsed sweaty and shaking on top of him before the tears finally came. She cried against him for the better part of the night, and left in the morning before he could wakeup, scrawling a hasty _Thanks_ on the notepad beside the bed. He called incessantly for a week and she finally told him it was just something that happened. It didn't mean anything and no she wasn't considering giving them another shot. It probably hadn't been a fair thing to do on her part, but he knew what he was getting into when he had sex with her in that state. He knew what she was like.

For the next few years Michelle dated a handful of people, slept with a few of them and ended things before it got to the point of getting serious. She had Steve to thank for being able to tell if they were right for her or not. It had nothing to do with her potential to love them (she'd loved him like crazy, after all), but whether or not she could see herself with them forever. The two didn't necessarily go hand-in-hand which was something she'd learned from him.

* * *

And then she met Tony Almeida.

He wasn't Steve…he _definitely _was not Steve. He was dark and mysterious and only spoke when it was necessary. He was anything but preppy and was more than willing to talk back to George Mason or Ryan Chappelle just to give them a little hell.

And he was hot.

Michelle had always prided herself as being someone who could only appreciate looks on some small level. People got more attractive or less attractive to her based on their personality… That was, until George asked wryly if she needed something to mop up the drool when Tony stumbled into a meeting late one morning with messy hair, an unshaven face, and one more button than usual undone on his shirt. He mumbled sorries that he didn't really mean and said something about his alarm not going off. His voice made him sexy. The sound of his voice was what she took home with her every night and the first thing she wanted to hear every morning. She wasn't stupid enough to think it was love or anything like that, but she'd certainly never _lusted_ after anyone the way she did him. Every nerve ending on her body seemed to fire simultaneously when his fingertips pressed into her back to get her attention. Over the phone one night she told Alicia in no uncertain terms that she basically wanted to screw his brains out, and that she'd never felt so sexually deprived in her entire life.

From the first time they'd made love it had felt different. It hadn't been something they'd planned out for weeks that involved candles and fresh sheets and pretty lingerie (though she had thrown on her best matching set of red lace before their date 'just in case'). It didn't involve soft music or packing a bag for the night or flowery declarations of love. Instead it had been about going from a simple kiss on his couch, to pulling hastily at clothing while some movie played in the background; it involved him mumbling the occasional phrase against skin heated by his mouth like 'you okay?' and 'god, you're gorgeous' that made her weak in his arms; it involved her shivering under the warmth of his gaze as he laid her down on the bed and arching against him as his lips moved down her body. The only sounds that could be heard was the sifting of sheets, and in the morning he nuzzled his stubbly jaw against her cheek and tugged her body into his warmth to coax her awake.

* * *

She'd never loved like this before. Truth be told, she didn't know human beings were capable of loving like this – or at least, some were, but not her. To give herself over so completely to her emotions was scary and exhilarating at the same time. Michelle didn't know she had it in her to do it. She'd never felt so completely out of control. From their very first kiss there had been nothing rational or practical about them and somehow she couldn't find herself caring less. She was still the same sensible Michelle she had always been, but she found herself making a little more room in her life for impulsiveness. Sensible wasn't spending an entire Saturday on the couch together when her apartment had been needing to be cleaned for over a week; it wasn't sitting on the phone with him while they tried to get their work squared away for the day; and sensible certainly wasn't having sex pressed up against the counter of her kitchen, food and sleep always an afterthought and forgetting to worry if she'd remembered to draw the blinds.

She hadn't necessarily been _surprised _when he told her he loved her, though maybe a little surprised it hadn't taken him longer to work up the gall to spit it out. (He was still a little wounded from Nina, but she did her best to show him he didn't have to be suspicious of her and it seemed to work.) The truth was, in her entire life no one had ever looked at her like he did and though it seemed a silly and superfluous thing to say, she knew from his looks that he loved her. (If that wasn't enough there was the way his hands teased down her back in bed at night, or the way he was constantly making moves to touch her in little ways when they were alone, or even the way he kissed her in the morning and pressed close when he awoke before the alarm).

Still, she couldn't help but be thrilled to hear him verbalize it; hearing him say it in his way, in the same voice she'd loved for as long as she could remember. She thought of this while they lay in bed the night the words were exchanged. He curled an arm around her shoulders and snuggled close, his eyes heavy with sleep.

"Tony…"

"Mhm…" his eyes didn't open but his hand caressed her shoulder.

She positioned her body so she was slightly leaning over his and pressed her open mouth against his neck. He groaned and his grip tightened.

"Say it again…" she ordered softly, a glint in her eye as her fingers toyed with the hair at his temples.

"What?" he opened his eyes one at a time and then arched a single eyebrow.

"Say it again." She repeated clearly, a grin spreading onto her face.

"Say what again?" he played dumb and she made a face. He tickled her in response, ending with her body mostly on top of his as his hand came to rest in the small of her back.

"You _know _what."

He sighed, feigning exasperation before his face turned serious and he used his free hand to cup her cheek.

"I love you."

She smiled brightly and kissed his lips.

"I love you too, Tony."

He grinned back. "Good…now that that's settled, can we get some sleep?"

She shook her head slowly.

"Michelle…" he whined until her mouth met his and her tongue poked between his lips. He groaned again, a little deeper this time, and flipped her onto her back as his hot mouth moved to her neck. Goosebumps rose on her skin and she raked her nails gently across his back as he moved between her breasts.

She may not be sixteen anymore but Michelle could, without a doubt, still feel the butterflies.


	3. Real

**A/N: **_Sooo…here's the deal: A certain someone who shall remain anonymous has request that I posted this or that physical harm will be inflicted on me via e-mail. So this is my complying. _

_Basically, if you haven't read Disenchanted/Against the Grain you probably shouldn't read this. And if you have, beware that it, for the most part, only discusses my OCs. The whole concept for the T/M parts of this story were the result of me trying to put together some sort of timeline for my OCs and I figured that since I'm about to post part-three of this series some people might enjoy a little back story. They're both wayyy longer than I expected them to be (probably because so much is left unknown about the characters), so I hope they don't drag on…_

_So this is parts three and four of "Love". I hope you guys enjoy it! _

_Part Three – Real_

Rick Almeida had been in love two times in his thirty-two years of existence. (At least, that's what he would tell you if you asked. He counted both times because both times he'd _told _the girl he loved her so he felt must've on some level…)

The first occasion was his high school girlfriend, Sara. She had a thick curtain of chestnut brown hair that was always sleek and shiny; her big, almond shaped eyes were a subdued green with a hint of grey in them and her porcelain skin was flawless without even a freckle or small birthmark. She was bubbly and vivacious and he'd overheard her friends gush time and time again about how perfect they looked together. She fit right into the crook of his arm when they walked down the halls, and he would take great pleasure in messing up her hair, or pulling the hood of her sweater over her eyes, or flinging straw wrappers at her across the cafeteria table to hear her squeal and pretend she wasn't talking to him for the rest of the day. It wouldn't take more than a couple of quick kisses in front of both their sets of friends to get her to forgive him and her friends would squeal at his displays of affection and he just _knew _he was the subject of conversation at more than a few of their sleepovers. He had sisters after all.

The very first time he ever had sex ended up being the only time in his life Rick Almeida was less experienced in the bedroom than the person he was sleeping with. Sara had already had sex with her last boyfriend and had been the one giving out directives as he tried desperately not to make an ass out of himself. He remembered it feeling unbelievable and the way the late afternoon sun highlighted the contours of her face. He recalled berating himself later for not having enough common sense to turn the radio on for mood and asking Sara one-time too many if she was okay/ready/sure she was okay until she finally ordered him to _just do it, Rick! _Her bra had stayed on through the whole thing and she'd gasped endearingly when he finally slid into her. In that moment it was sensory overload and every sensation muddled together from the way her small hands pressed into his back and her legs wrapped around him, to the way her skin tasted, to the way it felt being inside her heat. Needless to say, he didn't last long.

It was a few weeks after their first time together when his buddy convinced him that if he didn't profess his undying love for her soon Sara would think that _he thought _she was a slut and break up with him. He told her on the couch one night in the middle of making out through a movie and she'd grinned and kissed his neck and said them back. He felt better, not wanting to offend Sara unintentionally and figuring he would mean the words eventually.

* * *

Rick was seventeen and he'd been with Sara a year when his mother asked if she thought there was a way Sara might be able to spend Christmas Eve with the family so they could "get to know her". Rick knew what a big deal the invite was, and he wanted his mom to like her. Tony was flying home that night from California and Rachel from Boston and his mother thought it would be nice to have everyone together. The fact that Sara was being included in "everyone" was significant, without a doubt.

Sara arrived in a deep green cocktail dress and kitten heels ensemble that was way too fancy for their standard Almeida-family Christmas eve. Her hair was in big, loose curls and she wore a rose-petal colored lip-gloss and some sparkly eye shadow. She entered the room all smiles and swooped down to press a warm kiss on his cheek before greeting the rest of the family and receiving a hug from his mom – who, naturally, insisted she looked stunning. Out of the corner of his eye Rick watched Tony and Rachel exchange a look, and anxiety coupled with a hint of defiance bubbled up inside him.

Sara was perfectly polite all evening. She'd brought a bottle of wine for his parents, introduced herself to Tony and Rachel (despite how obviously nervous she was of them) and made sure to ask Amy and Lisa how things were going. She was tactful in all her displays of affection, clasping his hand on the table occasionally and pressing a quick kiss to his mouth when she excused herself to help with the dishes (despite his mom's protests). When she left the table, Rachel looked at Tony expectantly and his brother bit his lip, but said nothing. The rest of the girls returned and Rick forgot about Tony's uncharacteristic lack of opinion and happily drove Sara home, getting as far as third base in the front seat of the car until she finally noticed the clock and dashed inside. When he got home it was just before midnight and Tony was waiting for him on the front steps.

He inclined his head towards the back path that overlooked a ravine as his breath frosted in the cold night air.

"C'mon… We're goin' for a walk…"

Rick fidgeted nervously. "It's kinda late..."

Tony snorted, pulling back his jacket to reveal two bottles of beer. He handed one to Rick and slapped him on the back.

"I'll make sure I have you home in time for Santa." He muttered under his breath.

It was bitterly cold and Tony licked his lips repeatedly as they walked.

"I miss this."

"What?" Rick snickered wryly. "Freezing your ass off?"

Tony reached out a hand and shoved him a little, a smirk on his face. He took another sip of his beer and Rick mimicked him. Whenever it was just Tony and him Rick always got a beer or two. It was a requirement for all male-bonding rituals or something.

"So what's up, Tony?"

His brother shrugged. "Nothing really…"

"Mom said you have some new girlfriend." Rick commented with a snicker.

Tony scowled. "I dunno how the hell mom figures this stuff out…"

"Me neither. I swear she's superhuman or something." Tony snorted a _probably _in response.

"She cute?"

Tony simply nodded, taking another gulp form his bottle.

"Brunette?" Tony'd _always _had a thing for brunettes. In his entire life, Rick was certain he'd maybe had a one-night stand once with a blonde and that was it.

"Redhead."

"_Nice_…"

A warning look was shot and Rick stared at him in confusion.

"What? You haven't screwed her yet - ?"

Tony's left hand collided with the back of his head and Rick winced.

"Watch your mouth." Tony ordered half-heartedly, knowing better than to take offense to his seventeen-year-old brother's colorful choice of words.

"Damn…sorry…it was just a question."

Tony rolled his eyes.

"What's her name?"

"Kirsten."

"Can I meet her?"

"Maybe."

"How long has it been?"

"Three months."

"So you did…" Rick bit his lip, not really wanting to get slugged by his brother the former marine. "I mean you slept with her…right?"

Tony studied him warily before inclining his head in the affirmative.

They stopped walking, slumping down on a park bench and observing the view for a few seconds. Finally, Tony broke the silence.

"Have you and uh…Sara…?"

Rick shot him an incredulous look.

"It's been a year." He stated matter-of-factly.

Tony almost laughed outright, but managed to contain himself.

"Geeze, sorry. It was just a question." He mocked.

There was another brief pause.

"What do you think of her?"

"Who?" Tony's brow creased. "Sara?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter what I think, does it?"

The answer was yes, of course it mattered. Tony's opinion mattered more to him than anyone. Rick would never admit that though.

"Well I uh…" Rick bit his lip. "I think I'm in love with her or something."

This time Tony did laugh.

"You _think _or something?"

"Yeah I mean…I do. I think it's something you just kinda grow into. That whole, 'when you know, you know' thing is bullshit."

"It's not bullshit." Tony said simply. "If it was, the only thing you would need would be time... There'd be nothing about it that was…that felt different."

"So you just…" Rick downed the last of his bottle quickly. "You just…know?"

"Yup."

"How?"

"Fuck, Rick. I dunno. I can't explain it…" he sighed. "It's just one of those things."

Rick raised an eyebrow and Tony sighed exasperatedly, finishing his own beer.

"Alright look…if she broke up with you tomorrow…how would you feel?"

"Sad. Obviously."

"But you'd get over it?"

"Well yeah…of course. One girl isn't going to ruin my life…"

Tony clasped his hand on his shoulder.

"If that's how you feel…you probably don't." Tony sighed. "I mean…yeah if you loved her and it ended you'd probably get over it eventually…but if it was the real deal now, when you're with her…you don't even want to think about it. Hurts too much. "

Rick stared at him in disbelief and eventually just snorted.

"You asked."

"I just wanted to know what you thought of her…" he hoped Tony's response was nothing akin to 'if you loved her you wouldn't care what anyone else thought'. Rick didn't like being told he was getting his feelings mixed up. He knew what he was feeling; Tony wasn't feeling it so he couldn't possibly understand.

"Honestly?" Tony shrugged his shoulders. "She's cute and she's nice enough but uh…you can do better, Rick. Trust me."

Rick didn't know what to say to that. Sara was arguably the prettiest, most well liked girl in school. She got good marks and had been nothing but sweet to everyone all night. And physically…well, everything she did always felt good – really good – he knew that much. On the list of things you look for in a girlfriend, she had every box ticked off, so how could he do better?

"There's a difference between someone looking good on paper and someone being right for you." Tony informed him quietly. "It's like…" he scratched his cheek awkwardly. "It's like they get so deep under your skin you feel like you'll never be able to get rid of them. You've still got a while to figure it out. Hell, I'm still figuring it out. Just trust me on this one, alright? You'll know it when you feel it. "

Rick nodded. He believed everything Tony told him. Tony was his go-to person on every subject in the world and Rick took everything he said seriously. They rose simultaneously from the bench. As they walked back to the house Tony clasped him on the shoulder one more time, mumbling something about owing him about a hundred beers when he was finally legal.

His relationship with Sara had fizzled by the end of January, much to his mom's chagrin. In the end she just didn't feel right.

* * *

He took Tony's perils of wisdom to heart. Every girl he met was given the same courtesy and if he didn't feel something he knew it wasn't right. By his second year at Northwestern Rick decided if he couldn't find someone he really wanted to be with he could at least get laid…often. He liked to think he made any sort of arrangement he had with the girls he slept with very clear before things started up. They knew when they woke up in the morning he would probably be gone and that he was probably juggling two or three of them at a time. It wasn't dating, it was sex and he saw no reason to change his ways when there was no real reason to.

He was a few months shy of twenty-three and had just finished training at Quantico when Charlotte got pregnant. He usually saw her once or twice every few weeks and there'd been no talk of either of them needing or wanting anything more. She was drop-dead-gorgeous, had impeccable taste in clothing that showed off her fantastic legs and had just started working at a PR firm in DC. She was also older. They were both always busy and found time for each other whenever they could and then she got pregnant.

Two days after she told him he had a meeting with his superiors, asking him to go to the Middle East for a Special Forces operation. He'd been top of his class (his scores beat Tony's, something he'd called to boast about as soon as the results came through). Charlotte had freaked out on him when she took him she was pregnant, kicked him out of her apartment, and hadn't returned any of his calls since. Here was a great opportunity – one that wasn't likely to come along again if he turned it down – and Charlotte had made it quite clear she wanted nothing to do with him…

He called Tony from London to tell him what happened and apologize for leaving the way he did. Tony was pissed, without question, but Rick knew he would come around. He had to. Never once did it occur to Rick he might not make it back in time for Tony to come around…

* * *

Rick had absolutely adored Michelle Dessler from the moment he met her and knew better than to chalk it up to three years of minimal (if any) contact with females. She was gorgeous, she was funny and she was honest. He thought part of what he liked about her was how obviously in love with his brother she was. He liked their relationship – admired it, really. There wasn't any unnecessary drama and they seemed to just…_get_ each other. In the time he spent in their presence he would forever be mystified at the way they could have an entire conversation without opening their mouths. They clicked in all the right ways, weren't compelled to constantly put their affection on display and made this whole falling-in-love thing look easy. He was a little envious of that. He couldn't deny the fact that at some point in his life it might be nice to meet someone he fit with like that…someone who wasn't just a fleeting thought when he hadn't had sex in a while but an actual, legitimate fixture in his life. Like Tony said, someone you felt like you could never get rid of.

* * *

The first thing he saw when he saw Alex Evans wasn't the nineteen year old blonde that stood before him in faded jeans and a t-shirt, with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. He just saw another recruit. If she stood out it was because they got so few women showing up for field training and because she was so incredibly young, particularly for a woman. She was only there because Michelle had asked, and for Michelle he was willing to pull a few strings.

But damn, did that Alex Evans throw him for a loop.

First days on the shooting range were notoriously bad for everyone. A lot of these guys came over from S.W.A.T. or were ex-military, and a few of the really lucky (or unlucky depending on how you looked at it) ones were brand new. The first day always consisted of berating them for every bad habit they had and preparing them for the work that would have to be put in. Alex was one of the new ones, one of the ones who'd never held a gun for a living in their life, so he didn't expect much from her except that she wouldn't have very many bad habits to break. That was until blond-haired, blue-eyed Alex Evans stepped up, cool as a cucumber, raised her weapon level and fired off two quick rounds before anyone had time to blink. Everyone stared at her and Rick knew Michelle had thrown him a fast one. Alex had been trained; her technique was flawless and her aim was spot-on. No one offered any critiques as Alex placed the gun down, stepped back and removed her earmuffs. Rick noticed the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. She was obviously pleased with herself.

At the bar that night he bumped into Alex on her way inside (it was the last night out before all of them before training actually began). Her blond ponytail hung through the back of a baseball cap, but she was still easily identifiable.

"Where'd you learn to do that, Evans?" he startled her and she jumped, spinning to face him. Her cheeks flushed a little and she bit her lip.

"Firing range at Division in LA." She stated simply. "Michelle kinda taught me a few things…" She shrugged sheepishly, stepping inside the bar as he pulled the door open for her.

"And I practiced a lot…just in case."

He nodded understandingly, his eyes flickering towards the logo on the front of her cap. He groaned exaggeratedly and Alex looked taken aback.

"Michelle didn't mention you were a Yankee." He looked disgusted. She laughed easily at his expression. He liked her laugh. It was light without being overly flirty. He liked her smile too.

"Guilty." She bit her lip endearingly. "But I mean you're a Cub, right? So…I make no apologies."

"A little respect please…" he feigned seriousness, amused now that she wasn't falling over herself to impress him. "I get a say in whether or not you make it to Special Ops training."

She grinned. "We'll talk when they make it to the playoffs."

He definitely felt something that night… especially when he slid into the booth directly beside her and found himself having an animated discussion with her about everything from Joe Torre to where they grew up for almost half an hour. Conversation flowed easily because there was obviously no underlying sexual tension. First off, she was a recruit, and second she wasn't his type anyway. He tended to go for the super busy, career-oriented women, who were also jaw-droppingly beautiful and wore skirts that showed off their legs and blouses that showed off their cleavage. He was attracted to women who only had time for sex and still had a brain in their head. With Alex, he obviously didn't acknowledge his feelings as romantic. She didn't fulfill any sort of visual fantasy of his…but it just felt different. She was different.

* * *

"You're doing it again." Sheryl sighed impatiently.

"Doing what?" Really he knew, but he was a little embarrassed at having been caught. It wasn't like he was fantasizing about her or undressing her with his eyes or anything to that extent. He was just watching.

"Blondie." Sheryl inclined her head slightly towards the monitor. "Y'know if it was anyone but her I might be a little worried over here."

Rick rolled his eyes and turned back to the monitor. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot and she tucked a wisp of it behind her ear, leaning back in her seat and lifting the paper up briefly, chewing on the end of the pen. She looked so serious all the time and he was starting to wonder if the Alex Evans he'd spent the night with at the bar three weeks ago and was a mirage. Now that they were actually in training he had to make a point to keep his distance, or people might start to ask questions. He hadn't talked to her one on one since that night.

Even beneath the hardness she exuded in front of everyone he noticed little things about her – he was supposed to after all. He noticed she fidgeted when she was second-guessing her answer and her lips curled slightly at the corners when a question amused her. The fact that she was relaxed enough to be amused said a lot.

"Jesus Rick, I didn't even know you had that big of an attention span. Maybe the next time you fuck me you can spend twenty minutes watching me play with my hair after." Sheryl snapped. Again, he rolled his eyes.

"What are her scores like?" he ignored the dig.

Sheryl pouted, but answered. "Good. I honestly can't figure out why she's so gung-ho on this Field Ops thing. She'll have to kill herself to get an even halfway-decent shot at a position and she'd have no trouble doing something with Intel…maybe even management. Her personality could use a bit of work though."

Rick just listened, still enthralled with the camera. Fiercely blue eyes flitted almost unnoticeably in the direction the camera had been placed for observation. A smirk formed on his lips.

Sheryl huffed.

"I dunno what your problem is…we're supposed to be observing them."

"Well while you're _observing_ Evans I've got about thirty other guys I'm trying to keep my eyes on…"

Rick snapped his eyes back from the monitor quickly.

"Williams' checked his neighbor's answer key five times." He answered abruptly. Sheryl scowled, not knowing how she missed that and kept huffing and puffing about him being distracted as she made note. Rick pretended to listen while he went back to Alex Evans. She was more entertaining as far as he was concerned

* * *

Hands down, she had the best eyes he'd ever seen and after a few short weeks he knew they would be forever burned in his brain. They were the same eyes that looked happy to see him when they randomly bumped into each other running one Sunday morning; that flitted with embarrassment when he told her she needed his help; the eyes that sparkled in defiance when she finished the final obstacle course for Special Ops a minute faster than everyone else, and then stared up at him sheepishly when they were finally alone and she dropped back to the rain-soaked grass out of sheer exhaustion; they were the eyes that filled with tears when she collapsed into his arms after one of their operations in Russia. It had been during that same operation when she killed someone for the first time. They were the eyes he found cloudy with grief at some dingy bar with a bottle of whiskey in front of her immediately following Michelle's funeral, and that widened in disbelief and turned glassy with arousal the first time he kissed her.

* * *

If sex for the first time with Sara was supposed to be sensory overload, just kissing Alex was practically an out of body experience. It wasn't just that it was a good kiss… it was that she melded against his body and her skin was soft beneath his fingers and her lips curved against his in all the right places… It felt like they were crazy not to have been doing this all along.

It also felt like she'd probably never ever been properly kissed in her entire life…never kissed by someone who'd only thought about kissing _her _for days…weeks…hell, months and that was just blasphemous. He didn't just want _someone _to kiss, he _wanted her _and she reacted with a fervor he knew no one else had experienced from her. It was sexy; the way her fingers tightened in his hair as he nipped at her mouth, and the squeak he elicited against her lips… She was sexy and the fact that she didn't realize it made her even sexier.

And then there was the sex… He'd had a lot of sex in his life, but his first time with Alex was completely unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. Yes, he knew how to push a girl's buttons and could probably make them pant louder and come harder than they ever had before…but it was different with Alex yet again. He had every intention of giving her the best sex of her life, but it was less about crossing the finish line and more about committing everything to memory; her every reaction to even the slightest thing he did. He became absorbed in her, her every response no matter how trivial. He paid attention not just to what he needed to do to make her moan or groan or crumble beneath him, but to what made her laugh breathlessly or smile crookedly or they way she kissed him softly when he did something sweet. He marveled at the way he felt like even when he was inside her he wasn't anywhere near close enough; he wanted to stake some claim over her that no one else ever had or ever could.

* * *

He knew he loved her. He knew from the way the jealously bubbled up inside him at the notion of her seeing anyone else; he knew from the little flutter of excitement he got when she brushed past him at the end of the work day and he had a flash of all the things he would do when they got home…the most prominent one being cuddling up against her and burying his face in the crook of her neck. He knew from the fact that one of his top memories ever was the one where they lay in bed naked post-coitus and talked…talked like they'd talked that night on the beach. Only this time when her eyes welled up when she spoke of her mother his arms were already around her and he could kiss her gently, reassuringly. And when he said something that made her laugh he could feel her shaking against him. He'd never get tired of hearing her stories, even if he'd heard them a million times before.

He loved her because of how fiercely she loved. Because of how the last thing anyone could ever call her was selfish and that she would do _anything _for the people she cared about. He loved how when they were in the field together he knew what she was thinking: that when she wiped her palms across the back of her jeans she was preparing to make a mad dash for something or someone, and that when she blinked twice and breathed deeply she was preparing to take someone out, taking that split second to make sure she had no other option. He loved that all she had to do was look at him to know what he was thinking and he for her, that once glimpse of her eyes sitting across from her at a meeting would tell him every thought running through her head.

Alex Evans was the last thing he'd expected when Michelle called him up saying she needed a favor one afternoon three years before, but he couldn't have been more grateful for it. He didn't care that her she was impossibly stubborn…or that her face turned red and blotchy when she cried too hard…or that she had morning breath when he woke up to pull her in for a kiss. He didn't care that she fought tooth and nail against any semblance of a relationship because she thought she had to…to protect herself, or that she felt this constant need to prove herself. In fact, he kind of loved her more for it.

Rick knew that after all that time – all those years – his brother had been right. This thing he had with Alex he could feel in his bones, right down to the very core of his being. It wasn't about sounding good on paper or having something to brag to his friends about. It was about feeling more complete with them around and feeling like losing them, in whatever capacity, would mean losing a piece of yourself in the process and willing to risk it anyway. It was about being with someone who made you better, who made you feel like you were more than worth your weight in gold to them and that being all that mattered to you anymore.

This thing with Alex…_this _was real.


	4. Heart

_Part Four – Heart_

Alex Evans had been in love only once in her twenty-three years of existence.

If you'd told her that would be the case when she was eighteen she would've thought it was lame. In her mind, being in love once was worse than never being in love at all. It was those people who married their first loves and expected they could somehow be good for each other forever. It was stupid because how do you know if someone is your perfect match if you've never tested the waters? How can you judge that if you have nothing to compare it to? If you haven't ever cared enough about someone to have them (physically and emotionally) break you down and to become cynical and realistic and learn that people _will _try to hurt you? To learn that you can't trust people? The people who stayed with their first loves were the ones who ended up staying in a bad relationship because they didn't know any better and Alex would rather feel nothing for anyone ever than be one of _those people_.

Alex had never made friends particularly easily and when she went away to Stanford it was no different. She didn't go out of her way to talk to anyone, content enough being by herself. Alex would walk into lecture in baggy sweats (with the brim of her Yankees cap tugged over her eyes at least once a week), headphones, and slip into a seat as far away from anyone else as possible. She took notes, and usually found a reason to mock people internally for asking stupid questions to the professor. She kept to herself, and spoke only when she was required to do so. She'd smiled politely and pretended to care what people were talking about her entire childhood, no matter how silly and superficial and utterly ridiculous it sounded. She wasn't doing it anymore.

She met a few people, but spent most of the year confined to her room studying. A lot of the girls she lived with had obtained fake IDs and encouraged her to try and do the same. Alex declined, more than happy to use the fact that she was underage as a reason not to go out to a club. She hated dancing, for one. Occasionally she would attend someone's house party and once, while visiting her old friends in Manhattan on winter break she'd ended up in a bedroom with a guy (who was, if possible, drunker than she). He had her naked in record time and they rolled around with each other in the mess of sheets trying to make something feel good in her inebriated state. It was awkward and messy and anything but enjoyable and they didn't even get around to having sex because he passed out in a drunken heap.

She felt sick for a week after and then decided she was simply pissed off he hadn't gotten around to doing anything notable. At least she wouldn't have been lying anymore when she implied in more ways than one that she'd had sex before.

The truth was, it wasn't very badass to admit you were still a virgin and her thoughts on the subject wouldn't have been credible if everyone found out. She'd be the virgin whose opinions would change once she met the "right guy", (which, quite frankly, she thought was bullshit. God help her if her opinions on anything in life changed because of someone other than herself). She didn't want these guys to stick around, she wanted to be by herself. She'd never actually _wanted _anyone.

Her best friend from home, Kathryn, was the only person in the world Alex might've suggested that she didn't want to be alone forever to. The truth was she had stupid, sappy, little romantic fantasies more often than she cared to admit. She had issues with men though, and Alex remained adamant that if she were to ever end up with anyone it would be the person who could miraculously break down the walls she'd been building up since she was six. If some guy could make her trust a man again enough to make her actually want to feel something for him she would know he was the person she should be with.

And yet, she still thought it was stupid to only end up in love once. She wanted to be seasoned and experienced and prove to everyone she could handle the sort of devastation that came with breaking up with someone you truly cared about without falling to pieces; to prove how strong she was. She thought you could love with boundaries; everyone needed boundaries to protect themselves, right? The logic was irrational and circular and Alex knew it, but she adhered to it. She'd be by herself if she had to…as long as she didn't die a virgin.

* * *

Tony Almeida was confusing. At first, even when she heard of his reconciliation with Michelle Dessler, Alex made a point to look decidedly unimpressed every time he entered a room. It didn't help that he was the reason Michelle was leaving DOD (and also the reason her uncle would send her back to school without a second thought). Alex couldn't understand what was so damn special about him that Michelle was willing to overlook the last year of hell he'd put her through. He was sarcastic and arrogant and could snarl the most inappropriate things at the powers that be without reservation. He wasn't anything like Michelle. They were so, so different and even though opposites were supposed to attract Alex thought there must be _something, _some reason that Michelle loved him that was more than the fact that he was the exact yin to her yang.

One morning, one week after Habib Marwan, she was half falling asleep at the computer when a mug of coffee was placed in front of her. She spun around quickly, entirely surprised to see Tony Almeida as the culprit. Her eyes must've narrowed because he laughed. Indignation rose within her.

"What?"

"You." He smirked a little and she felt her cheeks grow hot. "Don't worry, I didn't slip cyanide in there or anything…"

"What about bourbon? "she bit back. For some reason she felt bad afterwards. His eyes dropped to his feet for the smallest instant before they lifted back to meet her cold ones.

"Nah…" he rubbed the back of his neck easily. "There's none of that either…" His hand moved to rub his cheek and she realized how tight her own jaw was.

"Thank you." She managed quietly, taking a small sip. Milk and sugar. He'd taken the time to find out how she liked her coffee. A different feeling threatened to well inside her. That was kind of nice of him.

"Yeah, look uh…" he sunk into the chair beside her she twisted to face him more completely. His hand moved to claw at his cheek again.

"Michelle said you were kinda interested in doing Field Ops."

"Watch it," she hissed, eyes moving towards the door cautiously. "Bill doesn't know."

The smirk returned to Tony Almeida's mouth.

"Alright then here's the deal…I can sorta help you out with that if you want."

Her brow creased. She hadn't expected to get a spot for at least another five years.

"Now?"

He inclined his head briefly. "Yeah. My brother trains at Langley. He could help you out."

Her eyes widened and her voice went squeaky. "Really?" Tony bit his lip and nodded.

"Yeah…" he leaned back in his chair. "If you want."

"Why…I mean…why would you want to help me - ?"

He shrugged her off. "Why not?"

"Well…I mean…I haven't exactly been…"

"What? 'Cause you don't like me very much right now?" He ruffled her hair as he rose from his chair. She colored.

"Trust me Al," sincerity laced his words. "I don't like me very much right now either." His gulped hard and then relaxed. "Plus…I have a feeling I'm gonna grow on you…"

And just like that, Alex Evans' life changed.

* * *

Rick Almeida was, if possible, even more confusing than his brother. As far as she knew after the first day he never gave her a second glance, choosing instead to observe the entire class through basic training as all the other Special Ops instructors did. She wondered who would be picked, knowing that the clear first choice would be James Wiley. Wiley was good at everything, especially kicking her ass in hand-to-hand combat without even breaking a sweat.

When she made Special Ops she was floored, to say the least, wondering who it was who had vouched for her. The fact that it might have been the revered superstar Rick Almeida never crossed her mind.

* * *

The small gym was empty at five-thirty in the morning. The bigger gym would have some of the keener new recruits this early trying to get a jump on the day, but the Special Ops guys knew better. Exhausting yourself was the fastest way to get your performance to decline. Instead they all went for a five-mile run at 6:30am, a run she was always the last to finish. At this point, she couldn't do any worse than she was already doing and the MMA training was completely destroying her every afternoon. She had to get better at this and the wee hours of the morning with no one else to watch seemed like the best time.

She didn't have the gym to herself though. She had barely thrown her sweater to the ground and retied her hair when she heard the sound of a fist colliding with a punching bag.

Cautiously, she peered into the room with the bags, rubbing her bare arms vigorously and adjusting the strap of her tank top.

Rick Almeida was dripping with sweat as his fists collided like rapid fire against the bag with incredible force. He was light on his feet, moving around the bag and giving her a view of him from all angles; even in a t-shirt and sweats she could see his hard muscles flexing beneath the cotton. His face was relaxed, but concentrated and he looked like he'd been at this a while. His dark hair was shinny under the bright lights and he hadn't shaved yet. Alex wondered how she'd failed to notice how unbearably attractive he was before now.

He spun around suddenly and she realized she had stepped out from her corner and was standing directly in his line of sight. He stopped, breathing heavily and wiping his brow with the bottom of his shirt and revealing his sweaty, ripped abdomen.

She may need to sit down.

"Sorry!" she blurted out when he was halfway across the room towards her. "I'm sorry I didn't realize…" she licked her chapped lips. "I didn't think anyone would be here right now."

Rick studied her curiously before speaking.

"You apologize too much. For everything." He stated, taking her by surprise. "You're allowed to use the gym. Why are you apologizing?"

"I uh…I'm s…I mean, I dunno…"

He started to smirk, catching her slip.

"What are you doin' here anyway?"

"I…I thought I could get some extra practice in." she colored a little. His smirk disappeared and his eyes softened a little.

"Yesterday was rough, huh?"

Her blush deepened and she lowered her eyes to the ground. "You could say that."

Rick's eyes bore into her for a few more seconds before he finally started walking away abruptly.

"C'mon…" he called her over, reaching into his bag and tossing her something. "Tape your wrists. We'll work on some stuff."

"What!?" her eyes bulged in disbelief. "You really don't have to…"

"I want to. You're getting a raw deal. Phil's an asshole…"

"I just assumed…"

"There's being tough and there's being unfair. He treats you like garbage. He argued with me for like two hours over letting you into Special Ops…"

She stopped taping her wrists and stared at him.

"You…really?"

He laughed and her chest tightened as his dark eyes locked on hers. "Why do you look so surprised?"

"I just…" she bit her lip. "I didn't think I was really standing out and when they picked me…I didn't think you even remembered - "

"I remembered you, Yankee." The smirk was back and her heart fluttered slightly. "And you stood out. Trust me. Phil was the only one who didn't want you in."

"And now I'm a huge disappointment."

Rick shook his head immediately, catching the tape she threw back at him.

"Like I said, you got a raw deal having Phil teach the combat this session. He's not even that good. And you might not want to hear this, but he needs to cut you some slack…The sooner you accept that you're always going to be at a disadvantage the sooner you can start working around it."

He was right, she didn't want to hear it, but she knew it was true. She was never going to be able to throw someone around like any of the guys did and she had to deal with that. He laughed a little when he saw her expression.

"But I can help you."

"Doesn't really seem fair to everyone else…" she commented innocuously, excitement bubbling up inside her.

"Tell ya what, if any of the other guys decide to show up at 5am to workout I'll teach them a few things too."

"I uh…that'd be awesome but I wouldn't want to inconvenience - "

"You're not." He assured her. "I like to workout now better…it's quieter. You can help me out a bit too."

She laughed softly for the first time. Like he needed her for anything.

He continued easily. "A boxing bag only gets you so far. Trust me."

She did. Alex didn't know why, but she did.

"I really appreciate it."

"Alright…" he stepped back and pushed the bag against her playfully.

"Let's get started."

* * *

Every morning she practiced with him and every time she got a little bit better. He showed her moves Phil had never taught her, he walked her through techniques for getting more weight behind her punches, and made her do everything he could think of and then some. She was always dying at the end of their mornings and never felt like she'd made any progress until she got to the actual training in the afternoons and realized that while she may never be much against Rick Almeida, she _was_ getting better.

It never seemed romantic, not in the slightest (how could it be when he threw her to the ground at least a hundred times every day); they talked a little sure, but never of anything of much consequence. He mentioned Sheryl a few times before realizing his blunder and shrugging it off.

But it seemed like he cared, and for that reason she trusted him implicitly.

* * *

Not surprisingly, she felt nothing the first time she finally had sex except like she'd ticked off something on her mental list of things to do, right up there beside travel Europe, and go whitewater rafting. One night, during a week after training with Special Ops (and the night after the final task for Field Ops recruits – she'd passed with flying colors thanks to Rick) she was at the bar with some of the guys and low and behold a prospect presented itself. He wasn't a complete random, she knew him as one of the Marines she'd met at Quantico the week before. He was decent looking and as buzzed as she was without being the gross, sloppy kind of drunk. The alcohol made her brazen and she smoothed out her crinkled t-shirt, knocked back the shot of whiskey Wiley had just placed in front of her and made her move.

They made out for a while in the corner of the bar before she asked him if he wanted to go somewhere. As it turned out, the only place to go was the backseat of his car, which would later make her feel like a horrible cliché. She recalled hastily unzipping his pants and sliding her hands down the front of his boxers as he cupped her breasts through her t-shirt. She found the condom she'd shoved in her bag at the last minute and they somehow managed to get it on close enough to properly on the first try. He'd unzipped her jeans and fondled her roughly (she was too drunk for any of it to feel good) and felt a twittering of panic in the pit of her stomach as he pushed her underwear to the side and positioned her above him. One deep breath later and she pressed down on top of him, doing so slower than she probably should've and wincing every time he moved in a little further. If he noticed anything amiss he didn't let on and their rhythm was rough, awkward and stilted, and she was simply relieved when he finally came. She got up without a word and redid her pants, the area between her legs burning. He didn't say anything as she reached around to grab her bag from the front seat and muttered _see ya _under her breath before disappearing back into the bar. Alex's heart was still pounding as she pushed her way over towards the bar, ordering another shot of tequila. At this point, she might as well go for broke, right? Her cheeks were burning and the sweat on her skin was turning cold. Her palms felt clammy.

She'd forgotten _he _was there, he'd been with Sheryl the entire night who he'd been sleeping with for the last few months. In her three-inch stilettos, curve-hugging skirt and with her long curtain of dark hair she absolutely put every other woman in the bar (few of them as there were) to shame.

Distracted by Sheryl's breathtaking presence, Alex didn't realize she had company until he brushed against her shoulder.

"Hey Yankee." He nudged her easily with his elbow. Alex spun around to come face to face with Rick, who made her cheeks burn impossibly brighter now. God he looked good. He always looked good and most of the time it didn't register anymore, but tonight he looked good enough to make her wonder why a large percentage of the population even bothered getting out of bed in the morning. His skin had a deeper tan than usual from all the time they'd spent outside during training and he hadn't shaved in almost two days (he'd later confess Sheryl hated it when he wasn't clean shaven and he did it just to prove how much of an affect he had on her…Personally, Alex didn't know what was wrong with Sheryl. He was hot; clean shaven or scruffy). It also made her realize why drop-dead-gorgeous Sheryl was glancing around smugly. As usual, he had the attention of every female in the room and his attention was all hers. Of course she was smug. They were probably going to go home soon and have mind-blowing sex – the kind of sex you watched in movies where the guy says and does all the right things and the girl can't help herself but moan like crazy and cry out and ecstasy, no matter how likely it was that the neighbors might hear. The complete and total opposite of the experience she'd just had.

She heard him order another round of drinks, an apple martini for Sheryl and a beer for himself. The bartender mumbled something to her about forgetting her shot and offered a quick apology. Alex shrugged it off, she wasn't going anywhere.

Out of her periphery she watched Rick frown and study her carefully.

"What's wrong?"

"What?"

He shifted a little closer, hand on her back.

"You okay?"

"Fine." she yelped, her voice getting high and squeaky. Rick frowned.

"You sure?"

"Yup." Both their eyes floated towards the door that had just swung open. "Her marine" had finally returned to the bar, inclining his head slightly in her direction curtly and hurrying off to his friends. Alex's cheeks darkened and Rick's frown deepened. His drinks had just been placed on the bar but he made no move to leave.

"Al…"

"Mhm?" she watched gratefully as the bartender poured her tequila. Her buzz was wearing off and she was starting to feel something more than just adrenaline; like nausea, disgust and complete and utter panic.

Rick inched impossibly closer, his voice low against her ear.

"Did you do something with…that guy?"

"Huh?"

"I saw you early."

"We just made out."

He stared at her surreptitiously as the bartender placed two shots in front of her, one as an apology for forgetting the first. She thanked him and dropped a crumpled up dollar from her change back on to the bar.

"You had sex with him." Rick blurted out and Alex almost choked on her own tongue.

"What? What the hell makes you think…" she trailed off, unable to lie at that moment. Unable to lie to him.

"Maybe. So what."

"You look like you're freaking out."

"I'm not…" she reached for her first shot, knocking it back quickly and making a face. The glass slipped through her clumsy fingers as she placed it back on the slick wood and Rick caught it before it fell to the floor. Alex flinched, her vision growing a little fuzzy now.

"Want me to take you home?"

She stared at him incredulously. Was he really suggesting bailing on Sheryl because she couldn't handle her liquor and had done something stupid? As if the woman didn't dislike her enough already.

"I'm fine. It's not a big deal." She reached for her second shot, even though all she wanted was to go home, hop into a shower and hope that some amount of scalding hot water would make her feel at least a little clean again.

Rick's eyes left her for the first time and he glanced over his shoulder towards Sheryl, who was watching them with a frown set on her perfect features. He looked back at Alex and shook his head.

"You're not fine." he declared simply. "And you're not going home by yourself…"

Her heart pounded violently when his hand moved across her waist, fingertips pressing into her far hip.. After what she'd just done and how repulsive the thought of contact with any other human being was, his hand on her still felt like a lifeline. It was enough to simultaneously soothe and rattle her. She let out a little gasp when his other hand pried the second shot out of hers and he threw it back before she could react.

"I'm taking you home." He stated flatly, his eyes moving towards the place the marine was sitting now.

"Stay here." He ordered.

"Where are you going?" She slurred. "You're not honestly saying something are you? I knew what I was doing, it's not his…"

"You're drunk out of your mind." He snarled, still glaring at the table her first-time-ever was now seated at. She had no intention of letting Rick in on that little gem though…

"I won't say anything." He was touching her again.

"I'm just gonna go give this to Sheryl."

"Seriously, Rick…don't ruin your night too. She's gonna be pissed…"

Rick snorted something she couldn't decipher in her drunken state and it was all too apparent who held the power in their relationship. Sheryl would pretend to be furious but Alex knew without a doubt if Rick snapped his fingers she'd come running. Sheryl wanted to say she was with him more than she wanted to be rightfully angry.

"Stay here." He repeated gently.

She heard him argue with Sheryl, but not what was said. In no time he was back at Alex's side, guiding her out of the bar with an arm around her waist. When they were outside back in the cool air she shivered. Rick's hand moved to her hair and he dropped a kiss on her hot cheek. It startled her. He'd never shown that kind of blatant affection to her before. Apparently now that they were done training it didn't matter anymore.

* * *

When she came back from Russia this guy Chris asked her out. She wasn't really into him but said yes because, really, why not? It was three months of mediocre sex and a few decent orgasms and the occasional dinner out, coupled with him bitching that she spent too much time with someone other than him and her wishing there was a way to break it to him what they had going on wasn't anything to write home about. He was obviously insecure and she would later suspect that he was only interested in her because he was interested in staking some sort of claim over her.

When Rick asked her to make the move back to LA following Michelle's alleged death she'd agreed without the slightest consideration of where it would leave her and Chris. He got angry and said some nasty things and she told him to get over himself… Afterwards there was the occasional awkward phone call just to see how she was in the months following the funeral, and once to get her address so he could mail a box of a things she'd left at his place. It just served to solidify the fact that when push came to shove, she'd felt nothing for him.

* * *

Without a doubt the scariest, most exhilarating day of her life was the day Rick Almeida kissed her.

It was never supposed to happen. He was her friend first and her boss second and it never occurred to her that there might be something more to it. To start, he enjoyed the freedom that came with being able to pick up and leave whenever he needed or wanted to. He _should've _ended up with one of those sweet girls who wore a cute sundress, had fluffy hair and looked definitively gorgeous without trying too hard. That was who he should be with; the ones who were perfectly accessorized and who took great pleasure in having him tuck them in close to his body when they walked the streets at night…not the one who got uncomfortable and felt the need to assert her independence whenever he got too close. Alex had always known that once Rick decided he wanted commitment the first girl he fell for would be putty in his hands (not that they all weren't already, but there were boundaries before). She assumed that he'd meet some girl like the ones he'd dated throughout his entire twenties and realize that she could make him happy. They'd be the couple that everyone envied and get married and have gorgeous babies and live happily ever after…

What Alex Evans _did not _count on was being the girl he turned to putty. She didn't count on him pulling her out of sight to press her up against a cement wall and kiss her hard enough to leave her a shaking and fumbling and trying to remember what she was supposed to have been thinking about before that…before him.

And she certainly did not count on being undressed by him – _ever. _She never expected him to kiss her soundly and pull her t-shirt over her head as his warm hands caressed her chilled skin and made her shiver. She didn't expect her whole body to ache in anticipation as he spent an eternity-and-a-half with his hot mouth on her neck and collar while his hands caressed her thighs and abdomen; and she _certainly _didn't expect him to make her experience the two most intense orgasms of her entire life before he'd even slid into her (She didn't even know she was _capable_ of coming more than once in a single sex session before him.).

She didn't expect the lump in her throat that formed when he laid her down on his bed, and kissed her softly, nor did she expect to see the heartbreakingly sweet expression on his face when she finally dared to meet his eyes. She didn't expect him to feel so unbelievably good inside of her…she didn't expect to _feel _so much. Suddenly she appreciated the difference between half-hearted sex and…something else. It was in the way his lips captured hers with a hint of desperation, the way his hands caressed her body almost reverently, and the way she clung to him as they moved never quite feeling close enough. It wasn't just sex with Chris that she'd forget about the next morning. She knew she'd never be the same after this.

Alex also didn't expect it to be so perfectly natural the next morning…to actually want to stay in bed with him until they got dragged out. It was easy, it was comfortable and it kind of made her question her sanity for even considering this. Her gut told her that if they were really good friends they would survive the fallout when it finally rained down upon them…Her heart told her that they hadn't been 'good friends' for a long time now. He had too much of her to go back to who she had been before.

In retrospect, it was obvious he loved her right from the get go. She should've realized it, but instead she worked on denying it. She knew him too well to not know that he didn't look at anyone else like he looked at her. Part of it was probably not wanting to get her hopes up for fear that he would prove her wrong (he could've had anyone, so why would he pick her?) and part of it was her being afraid to give too much of herself to anyone…

* * *

They rolled over, both still sweaty and her still trembling. He pulled her close, pillowing her head on his chest and sighing contentedly into her hair. He was the only person she'd ever actually _wanted _to hold her at night. One hand trailed up and down her back while another pulled her fingers to his lips, kissing each one gently before pressing his mouth to her palm and then letting it come back to rest against his chest.

"See now…aren't you glad you came over?" he teased softly. She laughed lightly and pressed impossibly closer to him. Boundaries didn't exist anymore and he felt so damn good pressed against her.

Wordlessly, his thumb and finger found her chin, tilting her mouth towards his for a soft kiss. He was so sweet too and it made her ache at how much she felt for him.

"I'm glad you came over." He breathed against her as the kiss broke. She smiled crookedly. "It's not the same without you."

"What?" she retorted sarcastically; her throat thickened and she swallowed hard, trying her best to not sound like he'd flustered her. "Sleep?"

He nodded, his eyes serious.

"I can tell when you're not here."

His hand shifted hers, pulling over it the light thumping in his chest. He yawned and his eyes closed, tightening his hold on her. Her whole body warmed from the inside out when he did.

Maybe it was okay then, that he had her heart. After all, she had his.


End file.
